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<title>becoming human by Lance_Otter</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350677">becoming human</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lance_Otter/pseuds/Lance_Otter'>Lance_Otter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black &amp; White | Pokemon Black and White Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Parent G-Cis Harmonia | Ghetsis Harmonia, Gen, Introspection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:41:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lance_Otter/pseuds/Lance_Otter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pokemon do not lie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>becoming human</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pokemon do not lie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They bite and they snarl and they hiss when they are frightened, but it is not deception; not in the way that humans are, not a lie in the way that humans lie, curling their tongue and smiling, eyes creasing to cover the blackness behind their eyes that Pokemon did not have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When a Stoutland is distressed, their fur stands on a razor-pointed end. When a Klinklang is angered, their gears whirr, whirr louder and louder. When a Scolipede is furious, their mandibles chitter, drip acidic venom onto the ground; tells of threat, promises of danger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It is logic in the way that logic has always been; the boy finds interest in machines and how they mimic the way of the living - motion with purpose, action with response, echo upon echo of honest behaviour, like the way that a joint needs to move so that the limb can, in the way that the living are simply ball-joints connected to limbs so that the puppet can move.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is all so very irrational.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of him still struggles to coincide it, this thought of humans as reactionary in the way that Pokemon are; humans have always evaded his reach, danced from the tips of his fingers and spun lies that he’s tangled himself in, and he will never be able to forgive them for the deceit they have buried him under. Irrational, illogical beings. Emotional. Destructive like a sun in the sky of a desert, cruelly singing down to any who dare to wander it’s dunes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...But is that not the nature of things…?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ghetsis had denied him a human, and thus, N had denied himself humanity. He had felt himself superior, felt his heart was true and felt that there was always a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrongness</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the habits of others; why was it that the man he called ‘father’ had only ever allowed him to see Pokemon who were suffering? Why was he deprived of the happiness of his friends?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pokemon do not lie. But people do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze turns skywards, past the foliage, past Hermes asleep atop his mother’s back, and finally, he spills it to any God - Zekrom, Reshiram, the lifeless gaze of Kyurem - who would be willing to listen. The confession that Truth’s hero is, in fact, a deceiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am N Harmonia,” he says, softly to the drifting breeze, “and I am human.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It should sting. Should hurt, should set him into hysterics at the wicked truth of it all, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t, it doesn’t. Instead, it blooms in the back of his throat like flowers, and he finds that he is laughing, light, loud and free.)</span>
</p>
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